


Sick Bed

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce should have noticed earlier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Bed

“You should sleep some more,” Bruce says on his way back to bed from the bathroom sink. “We had a long night and I _know_ I didn’t help matters, running you around Gotham while you were sick.”

There’s real concern in Bruce’s voice and if Dick could lift his head more than an inch off the pillow, he’s sure that he’d see that same concern mirrored in Bruce’s dark eyes. Instead, Dick makes a grumbling noise into his pillow and wiggles his fingers in what he hopes is Bruce’s general direction.

“You’re fine,” he says, “I’m fine. Just a little bruised. I’ll be fine.”

Instead of getting back in the bed on his side, Bruce comes around to where Dick lays face down on the bed with a thin blue sheet wound loosely around his hips and thighs.  He crouches down on the floor next to Dick’s side of the bed and presses the tip of a straw to Dick’s open mouth.

“Drink slowly,” Bruce says, voice low as he nudges Dick with the straw. “I don’t want you getting dehydrated, but I don’t want you getting sick either.” He waits until Dick has sucked down half the glass and then pulls it back, setting it on the bedside table before brushing his fingers over Dick’s mouth. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you in time for breakfast.”

Dick’s only response comes in the form of a sleepy sounding murmur and a slow-spreading smile.

Bruce stands up and brushes his hand over the nape of Dick’s neck, checking his lover’s temperature with a surreptitious swipe of his fingers as he moves to cover Dick with an actual, heavier blanket.

“I’m not cold,” Dick says, moving for the first time in order to curl his fingers on one edge of the blanket and tug at it. He tries to get the blanket away from Bruce, but gives up after several seconds of fruitless struggling. “Fine. If you think that I need it--”

“For now,” Bruce says as he cards his fingers through Dick’s sweaty hair. “I’ll bring you breakfast in a few hours along with some tea.”

Dick manages to convey his disapproval without lifting his head from the pillow. “I’m not drinking the stuff that Alfred makes when we’re sick,” Dick says, voice half muffled. “It tastes _disgusting_.”

“But it helps,” Bruce says.

“Bring me oatmeal and oolong or else I’ll--”

Bruce interrupts Dick midsentence, laughing a little at Dick’s put-out tone. “You’ll what? Throw a tantrum?”

“If I could flip you off without moving, I would,” Dick mutters. “Now go away and let me sleep.”


End file.
